By Stephen Shewmake
I watched a yellowish light cast ever-changing shadows across the deck from a single lantern swinging at the ship’s bow in a lazy rhythm to the sea’s motion. Silhouetted against the light sat a lone sailor on the railing, his legs dangling over the water. He had one arm looped through the rigging and was holding a pipe that glowed brightly whenever he inhaled.
I matched my oar strokes with the water lapping against the ship’s hull, trying to mask our approach. Most of the Tunaran ship’s officers were enjoying a feast held in their honor by our Kulparen allies, and some of the crew were in town enjoying shore leave. Still, it was strange that only a lone sailor would be on watch. On the Turco, there were never less than three. It appeared merchant ship officers were more lax than ours. I kept an eye on the sterncastle at the stern in case I had missed anyone.
We were in the range of Takesh’s crossbow, but still, he had not taken the shot. I wondered what kind of scum they had burdened me with.
I had been summoned to Captain Celsen’s cabin the day before. When I entered, the Captain, First Mate Allard, and two Kulparens stood over a chart on the table. The Captain’s cabin was nothing like those of the junior officers. The four of us slept in bunks stacked tighter than firewood. The Captain’s cabin could have accommodated the Turco’s entire complement of officers with space to spare. A fine carpet on the floor, brightly polished copper lanterns on the walls, and a bed that could easily sleep three. He had all the amenities of living ashore.
“There you are, Lieutenant Alian,” he said, grinning and beckoning me to the table as a master would his dog, “Come closer and join us.”
“Aye, sir,” I said, noticing the First Mate rolling his eyes at me. My father’s money had bought my commission, which he hoped would give me a career. My mother was his second wife. No love was lost with my two half-brothers, so I went away from them and out to sea.
The older of the Kulparens had been aboard before. His silk robes and jeweled rings boasted wealth and position, while his hard-looking companion wore plain, unassuming robes.
The Captain said he needed a volunteer to take on a delicate mission in service of our country. The words no sooner escaped his lips than I agreed. This brought a smile and a chuckle to the wealthy man’s face. He said something about me being a spirited young pup. I had no illusions about why they asked—I was an expendable. An ordinary seaman had more value than me. However, this could be the opportunity to prove my worth and gain respect.
The Kulparens and their southern neighbors, the Tunarans, lived in an uneasy peace. They suspected Tunaran privateers of raiding their ships bound for our northern ports. But no one could solve the mystery of how they were communicating with the pirates at sea. The Tunarans grew bolder, as did their reach, and sooner or later, there would be war with the Kulparens. It made sense that if successful, this might begin an alliance between the Kulparens and us in Carthecina.
Captain Celsen did not introduce his guests. I reasoned that if I did not know their names, I could not betray them if captured. Our mission was to board the Tunaran merchant caravel that had just arrived at port and bring back anything that might help explain the mystery. The wealthy man said there was a sorcerer among the ship’s complement. I tried not to show any reaction at the mention of a sorcerer, but my feet betrayed me as I stepped back. This drew a smirk from the wealthy man’s companion.
As the meeting continued, the companion studied me, and I him. His hawklike nose, piercing dark eyes, and heavy brow gave him a menacing appearance. He was not overly tall but compact and wide-shouldered. The crisscross of scars on his hands spoke of more than a few close fights. I could only wonder what he saw when he stared at me. I was younger, taller than him by a hand, but I suspected that I weighed less. My blue eyes were the opposite of his. I couldn’t imagine a more unlikely pair for such a mission, but I was determined to prove myself.
The next day, First Mate Allard requested my presence. The door to his cabin was ajar, but I knocked nonetheless.
“Enter,” he said.
“Reporting as ordered, Sir,” I said and saluted. His cabin was smaller than the Captain’s and stark by comparison. A fold-down desk and a shelf above crammed with books and logs. A single well-used copper lamp swung on a gimbal next to the desk. An officer’s sword and belt hung on a peg. The only other adornment was a miniature portrait of a woman and child on the wall by his bunk.
“Alian, you are the stupidest officer to ever serve aboard the Turco, you know that?” he said. The white scar along his jaw stood out when his face turned red as it did now.
How to answer that question without offending him and maintaining a shred of dignity swirled through my head. “That may be, but knowing it is the first step toward not being the stupidest, Sir.”
“Ha, always with witty answers,” he said and grinned. “You’ll be wise to keep your mouth shut on this mission.”
“Aye, Sir,” I replied. A dagger, a short boarding sword, a pair of soft-soled boots, and Kulparen-style breeches and tunic lay on his bed.
“Those are for you,” he said. “The weapons are mine, so make sure you return them.”
“Thank you, Sir.” I would not have expected such generosity, considering how he treated me most of the time.
“One last thing. Be warned. Your Kulparen companion is not a man to trifle with, understood? Address him as Takesh.” He smirked as if he had said something funny.
“Aye, Sir, and thank you,” I said as I gathered the gear and backed out of the cabin.
“Dismissed.” He growled.
***
The moon was only a sliver in the sky. From the city, faint music wafted from the taverns on the streets leading to the waterfront. Undoubtedly, the sailor must be thinking about what he was missing. Braisers burned brightly on the docks where a group of men warmed themselves. A curtain of darkness hung between them and the ship.
I stopped rowing and quietly stored the oars. My heart pounded so loudly that I imagined the sailor could hear it. Takesh, what are you waiting for?
An eternity of seconds passed before he rose like a shadow.
The sailor leaned forward, staring in our direction.
We were so close now I could see the jagged outline of a maimed ear. I went to nudge Takesh when the crossbow string sang, and the bolt struck with a meaty thud.
The sailor gasped once and clawed at his chest. His arm looped through the rigging, stopping him from toppling into the sea. Moments later, we were below him. He looked to be asleep. Takesh threw a line over the railing and pulled himself up in one swift motion. He gazed about, then signaled me to follow.
I wanted to, but I froze, expecting the crew to set upon us at any moment. Takesh whispered a curse and then extended a hand toward me with a scowl. I got to my feet, reached out, and lost my balance. I would have pitched over the side without his vise-like grip on my hand.
He jerked me roughly over the railing and onto my back, and leaned in close until our faces were only a hand-width apart. “Do not hesitate again, blue-eyed Lieutenant. Next time, I will not be so gentle with you,” he whispered in his thick Kulparen accent.
My lips moved, but no sound came out. His dark eyes bore into me, and the First Mate’s words echoed in my head. Do not trifle with him. I held my tongue. I got to my feet, drew my shortsword, and glanced around.
He motioned for me to follow him and moved silently across the deck to a hatchway. From below, I heard snoring. Takesh listened intently and then turned to me. I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a finger to his lips, silencing me like a child.
He pointed to the sterncastle, and I followed. The constant straining of ropes and creaking timbers swallowed up any noise our footsteps made on the deck. Our mission might proceed more smoothly than I expected. Once I returned home, an offering at the temple of the White Lady, thanking her for my good fortune, would be in order.
As we crept up the steps to the sterncastle, I could see a splinter of light from under the door leading to the officers’ quarters. Takesh halted in front of the door and pressed his ear against it. I tried to step around him to do the same, but he held me back.
I was about to push past him as he lowered his hand, and I came around him. When my ear touched the door, I heard a faint humming. He motioned for me to stay and drew a dagger; I put a restraining hand on his arm. He glared at me questioningly.
“It seems some of the officers are still here, Takesh,” I whispered in a tone that, to my ears, sounded like an accusation.
He gave me an odd look and studied me carefully before speaking. “Lieutenant, if my master said, they are ashore.”
His tone warned me I’d be wiser doubting my mother before doubting his master.
“No more talk. Let’s claim what we came for.” And with that, he slowly opened the door.
A brass oil lamp hung on the wall. Its wick was turned down, so it barely lit the passageway. Two doors on either side led to the Captain’s cabin at the end. The humming melody came from the cabin nearest the Captain’s. Light flickered from under the door. Takesh went to the first door, listened, then opened the door a crack and peeked inside. He shook his head. I kept an eye on the other doors, my sword ready. He repeated the process with every door except for the door the humming came from.
Takesh stayed close to the opposite wall to avoid crossing in front of the cabin from which the humming came. He knelt before the Captain’s door and gently tried the handle—locked. He fetched out some small tools from the sash around his waist and went to work on the lock. The sad melody continued with no sign of letting up. The longer I listened, the more I noticed the man never seemed to take a breath.
There was an audible click as the last tumbler fell in place, and the humming stopped. I held my breath and looked from Takesh to the door. He raised a hand so that I would not move. We waited until the humming started up again. Takesh motioned for me to come to him.
As I approached, he very slowly opened the door and peered inside. He took a step inside and then glanced back at me. His face was lit in half shadow, and he looked ghoulishly frightening. He gestured to me to watch the occupied cabin. I could hear a rustling sound, drawers opening, and the squeak of a hinge. The persistent humming slowed and then continued in the same sad cadence.
After a few minutes, Takesh emerged carrying what appeared to be some logs wrapped in a sheet and two heavy leather bags over his shoulder, each with an unmistakable bulge of coins inside.
He silently set everything on the deck. I watched as he pulled an amulet from inside his robes, held it to his forehead for a few seconds, and kissed it. He took a deep breath and signaled me to take a position on the other side of the door. The humming grew louder, but Takesh took no notice.
Takesh reached for the door handle. As his fingers closed around the handle, someone spoke.
“Who is there?” asked a slurred, muffled voice.
Takesh pushed the handle down—also locked. He stepped back and kicked the door. The frame creaked loudly but did not give way. He gave it a second kick, and the door burst inward. He rushed in, and I followed, only to be pushed backward by him as he backed out of the room. I stepped aside as he thudded into the opposite wall.
His eyes were as wide as I had ever seen anyone’s, and his face was as white as my dress uniform shirt. A mix of smells assaulted me: burning incense, cinnamon, and the faint odor of rotting flesh. All the bravado he had shown earlier drained out of him. He held the amulet in front of him like a shield.
“It’s been so long since I had visitors,” said a drunken voice.
I took a deep breath and entered, my short sword thrust before me—and stopped. My bowels churned threateningly, and I cursed. A human head sat on a desk between two smoky candles. From behind, I heard Takesh begin to chant in Kulparen. My feet felt nailed to the floor. My arms slowly dropped to my sides.
The chanting grew louder as Takesh reentered the cabin. His amulet held out in front of him.
As he passed me, he said in a hoarse whisper, “Do not listen to it. It lies and will beguile you.”
“I mean you no harm,” it said meekly.
My eyes closed, and I could feel myself beginning to sway.
“That’s right; rest now,” said the head, its voice sounding far away.
Takesh’s chanting grew louder, breaking through the black haze dragging me under.
“No, no. . . stay away. Stop,” it said. “Uhghe. . ..”
Like cold water thrown in my face, I was back. Takesh stood over the desk. A gurgling moan came from the head. I stepped forward and saw that he had stabbed the head through its open mouth, pinning its tongue to the desk. It looked up at Takesh with angry, bloodshot eyes and continued gurgling unintelligibly.
Takesh stepped back and shivered like a cat shaking off water. He kissed the amulet and touched it to his head. I stood there, mesmerized, staring at the head.
“Wait,” Takesh said and returned to the passageway.
The head looked up at me and tried to speak. It had long, dirty, tangled hair and sunken features. Hundreds of small pinpricks covered the pallid flesh—some were fresh. Droplets of dark blood oozed from the pricks. Its nose had been smashed off to one side, and two of its front teeth were missing. It appeared to be trying to smile at me.
On the desk were several black-feathered quills and crudely made pieces of animal skin parchment with strange symbols and Tunaran writing. Another sheet of parchment lay next to it. I picked it up to inspect it. Tiny hairs were embedded in it, and what looked like the imprint of a man’s nipple was pressed flat into the parchment. I let it slip from my fingers.
I wanted to look away but couldn’t. The head strangely drew me closer, like a snake charmer to a cobra, but was I the snake or the charmer?
“The crew still sleeps, Lieutenant,” he said, most of the color returned to his face. He clutched the amulet but would not look at the head. “We search for books, scrolls, and anything a cursed sorcerer would consider valuable.”
“And what of this?” I asked, nodding toward the head.
“It’s cursed—bad luck,” he said, searching a chest at the foot of the bed. “You search the desk.”
Even men not to be trifled with were afraid of some things. The head watched my every move as I opened the drawers. I kept glancing at it as I searched. Some things were clearly for everyday use and thrown to the floor, but for others, I could not fathom their use, so they went on the bed. The pile on the bed grew as Takesh added to it. The floor became littered with the sorcerer’s possessions.
The last drawer was locked. The head blinked several times and then quickly looked away.
I asked, “Is there something inside you don’t want me to see?”
It glanced at me and gurgled something harsh. I used the thick blade of the short sword to pry the drawer open. Inside were several pouches tied closed with gold, silver, and copper or brass wire, a bundle of parchment, and more black feathered quills. They went into the pile on the bed.
The head kept glancing at me, and I imagined it sighed as I finished my search. Takesh went through the sorcerer’s wardrobe, tearing garments apart in his search. Under the bed were only a pair of worn travel shoes and some slippers.
Takesh sat on the edge of the bed, examining the pile of loot, and asked, “Lieutenant, no books or scrolls?”
“Nothing,” I replied.
The head gurgled out a laugh, which angered Takesh. He drew a thin-bladed scimitar and readied a swing to sever the head in two. The head began to whimper, stared at me, and then down toward the drawers. I placed my hand on Takesh’s arm to stay the strike. He flashed me a look that made me shiver.
“Takesh, wait,” I whispered. “I think it wants to tell us something.”
He reluctantly lowered his weapon and waited impatiently.
The head became animated and gazed sorrowfully from me to Takesh. It tried to speak. “Ha-elp, ya. Ha-elp, ya. Pe-as, na, kk-ill.”
It acted as if it were still a living person with a will of its own.
What vile purpose did it serve?
Takesh began to chuckle, “Even the undead beg to live.” As he threatened to finish what he had started.
“Wait, Takesh,” I whispered again. “It might know where the items we want are. If I am wrong, kill it.”
Takesh gave it a moment’s thought and nodded in agreement but did not lower his blade.
I carefully withdrew the dagger a finger width from its tongue. Dark, bloody tears began to flow down its waxen cheeks. “If you scream, he will end you, understood?”
The head blinked several times. I withdrew the dagger and wondered if this was a wise decision.
The head wagged its tongue, smacked its lips, and spoke, “Don’t let him hurt me,” it pleaded. “What you seek is in a false bottom of the locked drawer.”
Takesh knocked on the bottom of the drawer—hollow. His hand went around the edges of the drawer.
Glancing between us, the head whispered, “He is your master?”
“Quiet!” I snapped.
What did it mean by that?
I heard a faint click, and Takesh carefully lifted the false bottom to reveal a leather-bound book tied shut with a thick, multi-stranded gold braided wire. He lifted it out like a delicate crystal vase and set it in the pile.
“We go now,” he said, hefting his scimitar.
“Take me with you,” it begged. “I know many secrets.”
Takesh’s face screwed up in disgust. He shook his head no and reared back to strike. I placed my hand on his arm again.
“What secrets?” I asked.
“I am not the only one—there are more,” it whimpered. “We are connected. When one speaks what is written, we all hear.”
I turned to Takesh and said, “The parchment!” I searched the pile on the bed until I found several sheets with writing in Tunaran. “Can you read this?”
After a moment of examination, he said, “I am not sure, but that is the name of a city, and that, maybe, the name of a person or a ship.”
“I think our masters will want it,” I said, looking him in the eye.
He mulled the idea over and then nodded. “You will carry it,” he ordered.
I found a scarf and tunic on the floor, stuffed it in the head’s mouth, and wrapped it in the tunic. I could hear it snapping and gnashing its teeth. When I turned, Takesh gathered the loot from the Captain’s cabin in the passageway.
The air in the passageway was a welcome relief compared to the stifling stench of incense and rot. Takesh handed me the blanket-wrapped logs and charts from the Captain’s cabin but kept the sorcerer’s possessions and coin-filled leather bags.
Takesh slowly swung open the door on the sterncastle. I saw a figure carrying a lantern moving across the deck toward the dead sailor. The Tunaran called out to him, and then again but louder as he approached him. He grabbed the sailor by his sleeve and pulled. The dead sailor’s arm came out of the rigging, and he fell backward onto the deck.
The Tunaran jumped back, staring down at his dead shipmate. Takesh rushed forward, leaping over the stairs onto the deck, dropping his burdens, and drawing his scimitar. The sailor looked up as Takesh’s feet thudded onto the deck. He ran toward the open hatch, shouting as he did. Takesh sprinted after him.
The sailor ran to the main mast, grabbed a rope, and rang a bell. As Takesh reached him, the sailor backed against the main mast and drew a long knife. Takesh feinted an overhead chop. The sailor raised his blade to block. Instead, he swept down to strike at the sailor’s belly, but the sailor used the lantern as a shield. The lantern shattered, drenching the sailor and Takesh’s sleeve with oil. The lit flame ignited the oil, and the sailor began to scream.
Shouts erupted from the bowels of the ship. As Takesh backed away, the sailor tried to stab him despite the flames, and the sleeve of Takesh’s robe caught fire. Takesh thrust at the sailor, and he fell, clutching at his side, continuing to howl.
I was a dozen paces behind him when I reached the bottom of the stairs. The fire had reached Takesh’s flesh as he frantically tried to shrug out of his robe. The sailor on the deck gave a last cry and lay still. The spars and ropes tied around the mainmast began to burn. Takesh removed his red and blackened arm from the burning sleeve and turned to me.
The pain on his face shone as bright as the flames burning around him. His eyes locked onto the bundles on the deck.
“Take what we came for and go,” he shouted.
As he turned to face the hatch, another sailor burst onto the deck and tried to tackle him. Takesh rewarded him by bashing the pommel of his scimitar into his head and dropped him.
Shouts came from the open hatch as I dropped the loot and head into the boat. As I lifted a leg over the rail, I could see two sailors explode onto the deck from the corner of my eye.
I paused.
Takesh had ordered me to go. If I left now, I would follow his orders, not abandon him. I took a deep breath. Was this not why I volunteered for the mission—not to run away but to prove myself? Takesh was giving me an out—no. I drew my sword, grabbed the lantern hanging close by, and ran to join him.
The sailors were on him and attacked from either side. They were armed with a boarding axe and scimitar. Takesh parried the axe-wielding sailor and backed away as the other sailor thrust for his belly. Takesh sidestepped, but the sailor’s blade drew blood.
The sword-wielding sailor had Takesh’s back and prepared to strike again as my sword came down on his sword arm. The blade sunk deep. I could feel and hear the bone crack loudly. He shrieked in agony, dropped the sword, and fell to his knees. I kicked him, and he fell face down onto the deck.
The other sailor backed away from Takesh’s relentless attacks until the sailor turned and fled, his arms and chest bloodied. He spun to face the other attacker but saw only me. It would be a lie if I said he did not look surprised, but he did. The grimace he gave me might have been a smile, but his pain twisted it. I moved to the open hatch as several sailors rushed up the stairs. I threw the lit lantern, shattering it, splashing oil everywhere, and the lead sailor began to burn.
I swung at the sailor and missed as he rushed up at me, stabbing me in the thigh before he surrendered to the flames and fell back onto his mates. Screams from below got louder and louder as black, oily smoke bellowed out of the hatch. The fire on the main mast snaked up the ropes to the sails.
Takesh had finished removing his robe. His side oozed blood. As he jogged to the railing, he shouted at me, “Get the silver! We earned it.”
When I crossed the railing, he sat in the boat, soaking his arm in the seawater. I dropped the bags, took up the oars, and rowed away from the docks. Sweat rolled down into my eyes, but I rowed on until my arms and lungs felt like they were on fire, too. When I looked, the fire had spread everywhere. The ship was doomed.
Takesh glanced at me and asked, “Nice fire, eh, Lieutenant?”
The head mumbled loudly beside me, and I gave it a hard slap, and it shut up.
“What now, Takesh?” I asked between gasping breaths, inspecting the shallow wound in my thigh.
“Row, Lieutenant,” he said, again lowering his arm into the water.
I rowed further from the docks because boats bearing torches were launching to rescue survivors. It would take hours before the mortally wounded ship burned down to the waterline and sank.
Takesh sat, sullen and quiet, while I rowed the last hundred spans to shore. As we neared the beach, he said, “Lieutenant, we can’t be seen carrying that thing!” I couldn’t see his face, but his tone was unmistakable.
People would remember men carrying a muttering bundle through the city. “We can drop it here, but we need to anchor it at the bottom,” I said, reaching for the coin-filled bags.
His reply was instant, “It’s not as if it can drown. Take it with my blessing. Be quick about it.”
I wasted no time and tied the bags to the head. Before lowering it into the water, I said, “We will be back for you; don’t go anywhere.” As I dropped it, the head protested loudly, then disappeared.
Takesh breathed a sigh of relief. We marked the spot as best we could with a pile of stones when we reached the beach. I cut the sleeves from my tunic and bandaged his burnt arm and side. He tried to push me away, but I persisted.
We wound our way through dirty back alleys and streets until we reached the back entrance of a high-walled villa. Takesh knocked, a peephole slid away, the door swung wide, and we were ushered in.
I stayed there for several days in seclusion. I was not even allowed to enter the lush garden beside my room. They treated me like a prince and pampered me. I saw Takesh again with my Captain and his Master, who I now knew as Alcazen Sharica, a Prince of the Kulparen.
The Captain and Prince Sharica praised our success, but as usual, Takesh wore a cold, flinty expression. They could not wait to get their hands on the head, but they knew the stranded Tunarans might be watching. Takesh took me to the garden, and we sat on the edge of a fountain.
He dipped his hand in the water and let it seep slowly through his fingers. “Thank you, Alian. I believe you saved my life. My wife and children owe you much—we pay our debts.” Our eyes met.
I saw no malice and extended my hand to him.
Once aboard the Torco, my life as a junior officer remained unchanged. Still, the other officers and my peers looked at and treated me differently. I had earned my place. I never heard what became of the head, but the pirate raids ceased within months. The Kulparens and Carthecinas became allies. I was ordered never to speak of what happened.
The morning we were to set sail, the First Mate summoned me. When I joined him, I saw Takesh waiting on the dock beside a sopping-wet servant who carried one of the two leather coin-filled bags. I walked down the gangplank and greeted him.
“My Master thought it only fair you get rewarded for your labor, Alian,” he said as the shivering servant handed me the bag.
I chuckled, knowing I might be allowed to keep only a tiny portion of what it held, but it did not matter. “Thank you, Takesh,” I said, “What of the head?”
He snorted and looked away before speaking, “Do not spoil our farewell with talk about that. Alian, my name is Halfara, and I am a cousin to Prince Sharica. We two are brothers now, so there is no longer a need to call me master. My home is your home.”
My mouth fell open. Master?
I turned and looked up at the First Mate, remembering. Call him Takesh, he had said, and the head saying, he is your master?
“Thank you, Tak. . . Halfara,” I said.
He embraced me, which shocked the First Mate. When I rejoined him, the Captain had arrived on the deck and asked what that was all about.
I held out the bag of silver and grinned, “Master Halfara, the Prince’s cousin, says this is a small token of their appreciation,” I said, meeting the First Mate’s stare as his jaw dropped. I winked.
Stephen Shewmake is a retired Project Manager from San Mateo, California, who now resides in the Philippines with his wife Belinda and their Belgian Malinois Akira. In addition to writing and occasionally island hopping, Stephen takes care of the needs of his thirty Bonsai trees.